


Finale

by DaphneTheAdipose



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Gen, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 19:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13841766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaphneTheAdipose/pseuds/DaphneTheAdipose
Summary: Hector's final moments.





	Finale

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the dialogue is derived from the movie.

Hector has to stand up.

Miguel, his great-great-grandson. Ernesto threw him over the edge.

Ernesto, he-

He's too tired for anger. Too tired to feel anything more than a dull pain when he thinks about his former best friend.

There’s only the question of why and when. Why would Ernesto go so far? When did he sell his soul for fame? 

And then Pepita flies up on the platform, Miguel on her back. Wonderful, reliable, proud family alebrije. Just like Imelda.

The relief lightens him and he forces himself to stand up. It's still too much, too tiring, he’s already been pushing his body past its limits all night, but he needs to go to Miguel. To see if he's okay.

He manages three steps before he collapses again.

“Hector!” Miguel, wonderful brave grandson, immediately runs to him.

“The photo, I lost it.” 

“It's okay, mijo.” He'd been grasping at straws, any chance to survive, but with his flashes coming closer and closer together, he doesn't have as much time as they thought. It's not Miguel's fault.

The next one follows almost immediately after the other, even more painful. His vision blacks out and he collapses roughly on the ground.

“Coco.” he wanted to see her, but it wasn't to be.

“No, we can still find the photo!”

“Miguel, it’s almost sunrise!” And that’s the reality. He’s out of options.

“No, I can’t leave you. I promised to put your photo up. I promised you’d see Coco.” 

He can almost see the bones in Miguel’s face.

“We’re both out of time, mijo.” The most important thing is Miguel. At least Miguel can go home.

“No, no! She can’t forget you!”

“I just wanted her to know that I loved her.” A wish carried away by the wind. 

By some miracle he easily finds the cempasúchil on him.

“You have our blessing, Miguel.”

“No conditions.”

He can't hold up the cempasúchil, Imelda has to help him. 

“No, Papá Hector. Please. No.” Miguel is young and hopeful. Hector was like that once, before his afterlife.

“Go home.” He tries to smile at Miguel, to reassure him, but another golden flicker interrupts him.

Miguel's saying something, something about Coco, but Hector can't concentrate on his voice, fighting against the seizure. His eyelids are heavy, he's tired, the pain of fighting against the Final Death has sapped his power.

Miguel disappears in an orange flash of petals and Hector sighs deeply. Miguel's home, he doesn't have to hold on anymore, he can let g-

“Hector!”

Imelda. Holding his hand. He tries to open his eyes, but he doesn't have the strength.

“Hector, don't you dare leave me. Not again.”

His voice is still here.

“I'm sorry.”

“No apologies. Keep your promises.” 

“I'm…tired.” The words become hard to say. He can't hold on.

He's pulled upwards and he barely realises she's holding him. One last embrace. He tries to move his arms but he can’t, he has no strength, not even to feel frustrated by that.

“You can do this, you can hold on. Just a little more. Believe in Miguel. Believe in Coco.”

It’s nice, having Imelda hold him, talk to him and he tries to stay, at least for this moment. That he may take this with him to wherever the Final Death takes him.

‘Not forever.’ He pleads. ‘Just let me stay one last time with her, before I have to go.’

“Hector, do you hear me!?” Her voice sounds angry, but he likes to think she really isn’t. He used to be able to tell. By her face, by her voice, by her gestures. He can’t see any of them, but she’s still holding him in her arms.

“-s nice.” He murmurs.

“Yes, stay with me.”

“You’re my… love of my…life.” The words tangle in his mouth, but he forces them out all the same. She has to know.

Her hold tightens and maybe he imagines it but he thinks he hears a sob.

“I know, Hector, I know. I’m sorry. Stay with me.”

‘Why is she apologizing?’ The thought flashes through his mind, before he feels himself slowly slipping away.

There’s a jolt, one final seizure he thinks, that encompasses him whole. 

The pain leaves him. He’s warm.

But he has reached his limits.

Imelda’s saying something, but it’s fuzzy and Hector loses himself in darkness.


End file.
